Opening: The Wake-Up Call

My 20s weren’t just about partying—they were about survival. About heartbreak. About learning, the hard way, that sometimes the people you think will stand beside you… won’t.

I thought I had love. I had spent years with my college boyfriend, believing we were building something together. But when life tested that foundation, I realized it was cracked from the start.

First, it was the little things—the emotional distance, the way my needs were always an afterthought. Then, it got bigger. My electricity was being stolen. One night, the roof literally fell in on me while I slept. And still, he said, stay.

But the heaviest weight? Twice, I found myself in a position where I had to make an impossible choice—one that broke me. I didn’t believe I had the support to be the mother I wanted to be. And still… he said, stay.

I almost did. Because when you’re used to not being fully seen, fully valued—you start to believe that’s all you deserve.

Until one day, I didn’t. I left.

Cleaning House—Inside and Out

Leaving wasn’t just about walking out the door. It was about walking into something new—cleaning house, inside and out. I started choosing myself. My health. My peace. I started making space.

And in that space, I met someone special.

He wasn’t like anyone I’d ever known. He was honest from the start: he had been battling heart disease since childhood. He was on his fifth heart—his third human one. His life had never been easy, but he carried no bitterness, only kindness.

His way of giving back? Cooking. He cooked for transplant patients waiting for their second chance. He cooked for school children who relied on those meals. He showed up for family. He was present in his life. And with me.

He didn’t ask me to stay. But I chose to stay.

Love Without Promises

This was a different kind of love. Not one built on empty reassurances or expectations but on presence. We made the best of the time we had, knowing nothing was guaranteed.

And then, the call came. The kind of call that stops time. That steals your breath. That breaks you.

I lost him. And for a while, I lost myself in that grief.

But here’s what I’ve learned about trauma—it doesn’t just shape you in the aftermath. It shapes you in the middle of it.

Finding Joy After Loss

Over a decade later, I stand here as a wife. As a mother to the most beautiful baby girl. And I see it all so clearly now.

The trials will come. The heartbreak. The loss. The moments where you don’t think you have the strength to keep moving.

But if you choose to, you can find happiness in the middle of it. Not just when it’s over, not just when you’ve healed—but right there, in the mess of it all.

I didn’t know that in my 20s. But I know it now. And I hope, if you take anything from my story, it’s this: you don’t have to wait for happiness to find you. You can choose it, even in the hardest moments.

Thank you.